


I Will Always Find You

by CookieDoughMe



Series: Nate Hansen AU [7]
Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but hopefully it is worth it for the h/c that comes after, nate gets violent, nate hansen au, the conman element of the plot is a little vague because I am not very good at being a conman, there is some violence in this and threats of more but nothing overly detailed or lengthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 01:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11933292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieDoughMe/pseuds/CookieDoughMe
Summary: Nate has had enough of this shitty little town even before Duke goes missing.This started off as a 'Let's show Nate getting scary violent' thing, but has turned into more of a hurt/comfort thing really, so I might have to try some more serious Nate violence some other time.The title is a line from Buffy, just because ;)





	I Will Always Find You

They’ve been here a couple of months now, using this nowhere little town as a base of operations for some transport work, making some contacts, and considering a long-term con that Nate feels less and less sure would be worth the effort.

They have insinuated themselves into the clique in a local bar; playing pool, playing cards, drinking and telling tales. It's the kind of place where everyone pretends to be your best friend just so they can get a close enough look at you to see what you have that's worth stealing. But it's a good place to make contacts and a good place to get their kind of transport jobs. Duke takes a shift behind the bar sometimes and Nate participates occasionally in the bare knuckle fights they run in the back room. He hasn't lost a fight yet and it's another way to make some cash.

They are known as business partners who live together and they have crafted rumours that imply they're a couple but don't want people to know. They're setting up various potential cons in effect, spinning a selection of stories and telling various tales, any one of which could help them invite significant short-notice “investments” from the contacts they're making.

This week, bored with the demands of these tales and with the politics of the bar, and with them needing to catch up on some maintenance jobs on the Rouge, Nate suggested he stay away from the bar for a while. Duke agreed, figuring he could spin it as an argument between them; sow the seeds of a story of discord that they can use later, to let people think they're taking advantage of a rift between business partners (or lovers) to their own gain.

And so, Duke spends the week partying in in the bar, and Nate gladly spends the time on the Rouge, catching up on those maintenance jobs, catching up on some reading, catching up on some sleep.

Mostly, Duke staggers home in the early hours of the morning and they discuss events in the bar when they wake up. Nate doesn't think much of it when Duke doesn't come home at all one night. When he wakes in the morning to an empty bed, the other side still cold and unslept in, he checks his phone, but there’s no messages and he figures Duke is still sleeping off the party somewhere. It fits with the plan for Duke to party hard in Nate's supposed absence and so he gets up to get on with the day's maintenance jobs, stopping first only to work out in the weights room they’ve got set up in one of the store rooms. And then he works through the day, stopping briefly to eat lunch while reading up on the best ways to fix the things he plans to fix that afternoon.

He keeps an eye on his phone, without really admitting to himself that’s what he’s doing. And it’s not until mid-afternoon when he checks it again and finds it’s only five minutes since he last looked that he admits to himself that he’s worried.

Duke should have checked in by now. Duke  _ would _ have checked in by now, if he could. A text, a call; they have signals set up so he could phone and let Nate know he was OK (or in trouble) without tipping off anyone who might be listening in. Innocent sounding text messages he could send from someone else’s phone if need be.

They’ve been here long enough that there were plenty of people who knew who they were, and Duke would have been out with all of them. If he’d fallen ill or something, someone would have let him know by now.

He dialled Duke’s number but it went straight to voicemail, as though switched off, which did not seem like a good sign. Nate left the rest of the repairs for another time. The last place he knew for sure Duke had been was the bar. He’d start there.

-

He thought hard as he walked, trying to play through likely scenarios in his head, but the truth was it would depend most of all on who was in the bar when he got there, so he'd mostly have to play it by ear. As it turned out, the bar was half empty and he couldn't see any of the regular crowd. Even the guy behind the bar was someone he didn't recognise. He sat down at the bar and ordered a drink, then asked after the usual barman, “John in today?”

“He'll be here in an hour or so,” came the response.

“I'm trying to catch up with a friend, you see this guy in here yesterday?” Nate asked, bringing up a photo on his phone. 

But the barman was already shaking his head, “I wasn't here yesterday. First time I've been in for weeks.”

Nate nodded.  _ Great, _ he thought and turned to look around the room again, checking for familiar faces or for anyone watching him. But there was nothing.

He sipped his beer and settled in to wait. He didn't like it, but he didn't have much else in the way of options just at the moment. He wasn't yet desperate enough that he was going to start walking randomly around town, searching for Duke with no plan like a frantic parent.

He picked up his phone though and called Duke again; straight to voicemail. He left a message this time, just for something to do, and he sent a text as well. He knew that Duke wouldn't need prompting to check in, but he figured it couldn't hurt.

-

The remains of his beer were long flat and warm by the time he saw John walking up to the bar. He greeted his colleague, waved briefly to Nate and carried on towards the back where the staff had a little break room set up down the corridor a little way.

Nate put his phone back in his pocket and slipped off his barstool to quietly follow, letting John get out of sight of the bar and most of the way down the corridor before he caught up with him.

“Hey,” Nate began, “I need to find Duke. You see him in here yesterday?”

The gap John left before replying was just long enough to make Nate distrust the answer that followed. “Not sure I did as it happens. It was busy though, I might have missed him.”

Nate found this idea highly unlikely, which he expressed with a frown and a glare. John was a small guy, not skinny exactly, but short and clearly spent more time sampling his own stock than he ever did working out. It would have been obvious to anyone that Nate would have the advantage in a fight. He felt that added a little extra weight to his glare.

“I thought you were gonna be away all week?” asked John, in a blatant attempt to change the subject.

“So did I,” said Nate, “which is why I need to find Duke. I know he was coming here last night.”

“Maybe his plans changed,” suggested John and stepped around Nate to open the door to the little staff room. He went out of his way to avoid meeting Nate's eye as he did, and that was what left Nate feeling sure that he was lying. Which meant that something had happened that John didn't want to talk to Nate about, which had to mean trouble, presumably for Duke. Well, he could create some trouble of his own for John in turn.

He followed him and stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, effectively trapping John in the tiny space. He stood there and glared, as John hung up his coat and made a show of looking around for something. In the face of Nate's continuing glare, he finally stopped and looked up. “I really don't know what else to tell you.”

“How about, you tell me who he left with or where they went. I know he was here. And I know you were here. This place isn't that big, you must have seen him at some point.”

John's eye's darted over the whole space, unconsciously looking for a way out that wasn't there. “OK yeah, I remember now. I did see him early on. But I don't know when he left.”

Nate shook his head at this useless answer to a question he hadn't asked. “I don't want to have to force it out of you John. I like you, you're a good guy. You run a good bar and you keep the fights out the back here fair.”

Nate watched with some satisfaction that John did not seem to enjoy being reminded of the bare knuckle fights that Nate had won against guys much bigger than he was.

“But my partner is missing. He hasn't been in touch. I can't get hold of him and I need to find him. You were the last person I know who saw him, and I think you know who he left with.”

“How do you know he didn’t just get bored of you and run off with …”

Nate crossed the room in a single long stride, hands grabbing John's shoulders to slam him hard against the wall. His head hit the brick with a satisfying crunch and he glared back at Nate in turn.

“I. Don't. Know. What. Happened.” John bit out each word, his attempt at emphasis making it sound all the more as though he resented saying each one. As though none of them were true.

“I. Don't. Believe. You.” replied Nate and took half a step back to give himself room to punch John hard in the face, leaving a splatter on the wall beside him from his now bleeding nose.

“Say the kind of thing you think happened did in fact happen. You think I'm going to risk my life by telling you anything?”

“I have no idea what might have happened. That's the point.”

He pulled his arm back for another punch, but he could see that punches weren't going to do it. John might not be much of a fighter, but he ran a bar populated by them and this couldn't have been the first time he'd been punched at work.

Nate pulled him forward and slammed him back against the wall again, prompting renewed bleeding from his nose which was now staining his t-shirt.

“I wonder how long it would take,” said Nate calmly, in a tone of idle curiosity. 

John, thrown by the change of pace, asked, “What?”

“For me to pull all your teeth out,” replied Nate, looking at his mouth with a frown of concentration, as though working on a calculation.

“OK, fine. I don't  _ know _ where he went, but if I was going to look for him, I would start at Charlie's.”

Stifling a groan of irritation, Nate regarded him for a moment longer, then nodded. “OK, Charlie's it is. But if I find you've been lying to me, I'm coming back. And I'm bringing my pliers with me.”

“I swear ..” began John, but Nate was gone.

-

Nate walked quickly, swearing under his breath. Charlie's was the most popular nightclub in town, simply by virtue of being the only one. He knew it well enough, and it was a dive. But it did make some sense that it's somewhere they would have left the bar for.

When he got there it was still early by night club standards and the place looked quiet. He didn't recognise the guy on the door, but then that didn't necessarily mean he wouldn’t recognise Nate. Probably little point going in guns blazing though; he'd try the civil approach to start with. The only question was how to play it, he thought as he walked up the final stretch of road.

The relationship he had with Duke was many things and he'd called it by many names, sometimes referring to Duke as a friend, sometimes lover, sometimes business partner. For cons, they had been cousins, colleagues, classmates, teammates, friendly (or not so friendly) rivals. Today he decided to keep it simple but vague.

“Hello, I'm looking for my partner, I think he was here last night. Did you see him?” The photo he brought up on his phone was small and a little blurry, but Duke was kind of distinctive and it was recognisably him. The doorman, bored, slowly brought his eyes to the screen as though it were a great deal of effort. 

He was no doubt a good doorman, he was large and intimidating, and appeared entirely unflappable. Nate had no doubt that if he didn't want someone getting inside, then they didn't get inside. But, he was not a good liar.

When his eyes met the screen he went very still and a look of surprise and alarm flashed briefly across his face. “No,” he said, too quickly, leaving Nate very sure, not only that Duke had actually been there, but also that something had happened here (was possibly still happening here). Otherwise why lie about it?

Nate smiled and put the phone away. “OK thanks. At least that narrows it down a bit. Can I go on in anyway, I think some other friends of mine are inside.”

Apparently thrown by how easily Nate had let this go, he simply stood aside and let him in. Nate handed the exorbitant entry fee to the next guy and walked on in to an almost deserted club. Which was useful actually as it allowed him to see the place more clearly.

He scanned the room; dance floor, bar, toilets, some kind of VIP area (currently empty), balcony, stairs … ah - a couple of unmarked doors that had to lead to offices and a back room. He ordered a drink as a prop and stood with both doors in easy view, hoping that it was still near enough to the start of a shift that there would be staff coming and going to give him a clue as to where each door led and what the security was like on them. It looked like the doors had keypads on them for secure entry, but then this was the kind of place that didn't always bother maintaining things like that.

And sure enough he didn't have to wait too long. He watched a few people bring supplies for the bar and they all came and went through the same door, the keypad ignored. So the other door could be offices or a backroom for the club. He stood a little unsteadily, and made his way over to the second door in uneven steps, thinking to claim a drunken mistake if he needed to.

When it opened easily, he slipped inside and closed it quietly behind him. He was in a bare corridor with a few different doors leading off it, the music of the club a dull thump-thump behind him. And that made it hard to hear, but there were voices coming from somewhere - angry voices at that.

He paused outside the first door; nope. Outside the second, he didn't have to pause long, not only was this where the voices were coming from, but one of them was Duke’s. The handle turned easily under his hand and he drew his gun from the back of his waistband as he stepped inside what turned out to be a small dark room full of people.

Duke was tied to a chair in the middle, shouting at them. “You. Have. Got. The. Wrong. Guy. There is simply nothing else I can tell you.”

They were so focused on Duke they hadn't seen Nate enter the room, and he was able to get his gun pushed up against the back of the nearest guy's head before anyone saw him.

Nate put his hand on the guy's shoulder as he pressed the metal of the gun barrel into his hair. “Two things,” he said. “Un-tie him, and show us the back exit. Otherwise you're going to have a nasty clean-up job and fewer people around to do it.”

Everything went very still as the crowd took in Nate, the location of his gun, and the look on his face which very clearly said,  _ I am absolutely ready to use this and if you think otherwise you will definitely regret it. _

The crowd looked to an older guy on the far side of the room who apparently had the final say. “You know?” he said, as though something had just occurred to him, “I'm not sure this little runt is worth it. We've got bigger fish to fry.”

He nodded at the nearest lacky, who cut the ropes tying Duke while he spoke to Nate, “Right out the door, away from the club, turn the corner and there's a door there'll take you out into the back alley.” 

Nate nodded as Duke joined him, and he stepped back, pulling the random guy with him as they backed out the door that Duke opened. Sure enough, it was only a few steps around the corner to the fire exit. Duke got it open and Nate brought the handle of his gun down hard on the back of the guy's head. He crumpled to the floor and they darted out the door, pulling a handy trash can in front of it to help delay anyone who might decide to pursue.

Nate put the gun back in his waistband at looked at Duke, assessing his injuries. “Can you run?” he asked.

Duke nodded. 

They ran hard for a few blocks, then when Duke started to slow down Nate looked behind them, down a long stretch of road; no one was following. He slowed to a walk and Duke stopped gratefully, bending over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. There was a lot of blood.

“Do you need a hospital?” asked Nate.

Duke looked up at him. He looked exhausted, but he shook his head hard, so Nate just asked, “Did they really have the wrong guy?”

Duke nodded, his face showing his surprise. “No idea what they were talking about,” he added, standing up and breathing more normally now. “Job’s blown though. We should skip town.”

“Sounds good to me,” Nate agreed. “Let's get out of here.”

-

As they stepped back onto the Rouge, Nate said, “Sit down while I get us under way then I'll help you…” but he trailed off in the face of Duke shaking his head.

“It'll go quicker with both of us and then I can properly relax sooner.”

“OK fine, but I'm going to hold you to the ‘relax’ part.”

“Not going to be a problem, believe me,” replied Duke with feeling.

Nate squeezed his shoulder, in a gesture that said,  _ Sorry _ and  _ I know you'll be OK, but we can talk about it if you want  _ and  _ I'll help you feel better later.  _ And then the conversation turned practical as they worked to get the Rouge out to sea.

-

Once they were able to sit down, Duke did so heavily and Nate watched him with concern. “What hurts most?” he asked.

“Kind of everything to be honest, but more than anything I'm just exhausted. No sleep,” he added.

Nate knelt down in front of him and brought a careful hand to the cut just above Duke’s eyebrow. He brushed his fingers over the skin, trying to see through the dried blood exactly how bad it was. Duke leant into the touch and he moved his hand to the side to hold his head, running his fingers into his hair.

Duke closed his eyes and they sat there like that for a moment, Nate deciding that the cut wasn't so deep they couldn't handle it themselves. He looked over the rest of Duke; there were various patches of blood all over him, but it was hard to see where all the cuts were.

“Is all of this blood yours?” he asked.

“No, don't think so. Gave a few of them something to think about.”

“OK look, I know you're tired but I think we should get you in the shower and cleaned off so I can check if any of this is worse than it looks. I'll put some butterfly stitches on this one at least, and get you some painkillers and then you can sleep, OK?”

“Sounds good.”

“Or, do you want to eat first? We've got…”

“No. Shower.”

“OK. Wait there a minute.”

Nate grabbed their well-stocked first aid kit and took it to the bathroom. He turned on the shower so the water could warm up and he grabbed some fresh towels.

“Come on then,” he said to Duke holding out a hand. He pulled him up and Duke leant on him as the walked into the now steaming bathroom. 

“OK that might actually be too hot. Hold on,” Nate turned the heat down a little and then turned back to help Duke with his t-shirt. “You know what, this is ruined anyway,” he said, and, rather than struggle to pull it over Duke’s sore head, he took advantage of one of the tears already in it to simply rip it in two down the middle of Duke’s chest.

Duke blinked at him for a moment. “If I was feeling better that would be all kinds of hot.”

Nate smiled back, “Noted,” he said, and knelt to undo Duke’s belt.

“Dude, you can't be being all sexy when I'm this broken.”

“It's not my fault if you find me irresistible,” said Nate, joking.

And he helped him out of the rest of his clothes, turned the spray down so it wouldn’t hit his cut skin too hard, and helped him wash the blood away. He checked for injuries at the same time. Besides the black eye and cut on his forehead there was a nasty gash on his chest, which he guessed was where most of the blood had come from. Besides that it didn't look too bad, although he was going to have some spectacular bruises.

The bathroom floor was soaked once they were done, but he'd clean that up later. They stayed in the warm of the steam while Nate dressed his wounds and handed him some pain killers.

And then they fell into bed, hands resting on each other as Duke started to fall asleep straight away.

“I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner,” said Nate, brushing the damp hair from Duke’s eyes.

“Nothin’ t’ ‘pologise for,” mumbled Duke sleepily. “I knew you'd find me. And you did.”


End file.
